


Nuclear Physics & Rich Boys

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last person Bruce Banner expected to end up with for a roommate was Tony Stark. Now he's pretty sure the only possible result is that one of them is going to kill the other. College AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note added 2/27: If you haven't already read this fic, I must ward you away from it. It starts off all right but then it gets completely atrocious. I recommend reading The Science of Asgardians instead, if you think you can get behind Bruce/Loki fanfiction, because it's by far my best Marvel work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been toying with the idea of a Bruce/Tony college AU for awhile now, and this is the result. Or at least the first chapter of the result. Updates will arrive every Wednesday.

MIT is a dream come true.

Bruce Banner never thought he'd actually get in. Or at least he never thought he'd be able to attend. There would be money problems, or some problem thanks to his less than stellar record in high school—making plans to put a bomb in the basement doesn't exactly paint a kid in the best light.

But here he is. Standing in his new dorm room (in Random Hall) on the Massachusetts Institute of Technology campus, getting ready to study in the nuclear science program. He'll have access to the best research facilities and the best professors and the best _everything_ , really.

Scratch the dream thing. Forget white clouds and golden lights— _this_ is actually Heaven.

The dorm itself isn't really what he always imagined from a serious school like MIT though. Maybe the fact that it was called Random Hall should have given that away when he got his paperwork. Or maybe the fact that the floor he lives on was referred to as 'Clam Floor' should have been another big hint.

It's only now that he's here that he's realizing how weird it really is. His floor has a closet filled to the brim with board games, including a bunch he's pretty sure aren't real things, like Troll Forest and a version of Clue starring the heroes from DC Comics. He's been informed that Black Hole Floor is the real nerd floor, because the people who live there like anime and video games and sewing (that last part throws him off more than anything), and the Loop Floor is a bunch of artsy girls. He's not sure how they ended up so conveniently organized.

Plus there are cats all over the building. He's seen at least five so far.

But the room is nice. It’s not huge, but he wouldn’t expect that from a college dorm. It’ll fit him well enough, along with his roommate.

Whoever that is. As of right now, his new roommate still hasn't shown his face. Bruce thinks everybody else got contact information for their roommates before they got here, but he hasn't received anything, so he doesn't have the slightest idea who to expect.

Hopefully someone who is at least tolerable.

He's been there himself for a few hours, and all his things are moved in and set up the way he wants them. For a few moments he felt bad about claiming his own side of the room without asking for the other guy's input, but it's his roommate's own fault for not being around yet. Now he's just waiting, and the only problem is that he's hungry.

He'd been planning to stick around until his roommate showed up, so they could do the greeting and introductions and all, but he's been putting off lunch for an hour now, and his stomach is starting to complain.

Bruce reaches for his informational folder and flips through for the campus map. The nearest food is in the Stratton Student Center, according to one of the pages he read about Random Hall. That's not too much of a walk.

He scratches at the back of his head a little bit and then shrugs. If his roommate shows up while he's gone—that'll just have to be that, right? In one easy motion, Bruce sets aside the folder, except for the map, and picks up his room key.

The halls are alive and kicking, and he finds himself stopping to greet more than one person, and in one case, to help move a few boxes into somebody's room.

Eventually though, he makes it outside, where it's even more active, but there aren't so many people catching everyone else in hellos. There's no reason to say hi to everyone when you aren't going to be living in close quarters.

At the edge of a street, he glances at the map, just to make sure he's going the right way. He's walking quickly, still looking over his map, when he hears someone—a girl—say, "Careful there."

He jumps when he notices how close she is, so much that it seems like they should be touching. Her hair is thrown into a messy ponytail, and while she looks relaxed enough, her muscles are tensed beneath her T-shirt. His father used to look that way sometimes, when he was at his most dangerous.

"Sorry," he says. "Did I almost run into you? I was kind of—"

"Looking at your map?" Her eyes flick toward it. "I got that. Freshman then."

It isn’t a question.

"Yeah." His acknowledgment of this sounds more apologetic than the actual apology from a moment before. "Any chance you could tell me if I'm going in the right direction to get to Stratton, or did I kill any good will with the near crash?"

The girl shakes her head and says, "I'll do you one better. I'm headed there myself. Come on."

They walk off together, and as soon as he's offered her a thanks, she's bombarding him with information. Most of it he'll never remember—it's all gossip about who is dating who, and who is sleeping together, and which people are the ones to go to for favors, and he's almost positive he hears something about a secret society, but he does manage to latch onto her name. Natasha Romanov. Somehow he throws his own into the mix, too.

Stratton itself is bustling with even more activity than the rest of campus, as far as he can tell. There seems to be an entire ocean of people, and all he can do is swim along with the current. He does his best to keep up with Natasha, seeing as she waves for him to follow her.

They end up at a table for four that's occupied by two people already. Natasha points to each of them in turn saying, "This is Clint and Steve, and depending on who you ask, I date both of them but not on the same days, and if you ask me I'm not dating either of them."

This is how Bruce ends up eating lunch with three juniors on his first day on campus.

He finds out that Natasha is studying Brain and Cognitive Sciences, with a concentration in psych, but when he asks what she plans to do with it, she just studies her nails and says, "Oh, I'm not sure yet" in a tone that suggests the exact opposite.

Steve brightly offers that he's in history, to which Natasha rolls her eyes and offers up that, “It’s a perfect fit because he's a fossil himself.”

And when Clint says, in this curt way that Bruce is already learning is just the way Clint says everything, that he's in math, Natasha shakes her head and says, “He's only studying math because you can't go to college to learn how to shoot one arrow through two skulls.”

That last part is a little disconcerting, but it's not bad, as far as first days go, and Bruce is pretty cheerful on his way back to Random Hall. He's cheerful all the way up to Clam Floor, and all the way to his door, right up until he actually pushes it open and finds that most of his things are strewn across the floor, definitely not where he left them.

"What the hell happened here?" he says to himself. It looks like the place was ransacked, maybe burglarized, except as far as he can tell the dresser has been left alone, and his laptop—a cheap piece of crap he's had for seven years that just barely manages to get the job done—is on the bed instead of missing altogether, and if someone came in to steal from him, they'd take the laptop, terrible or not.

He steps forward and bends down to pick up a case of pens that he had sitting on the desk on his half of the room, when the door bangs into the wall behind him. Or into the door stop anyway. Probably for the best that's there, considering the guy who just came in—who looks jarringly familiar, though Bruce can't quite place him—looks crazed and probably would have put a hole in the wall just now.

"You!" the new guy all-but roars, pointing at the center of Bruce's chest.

There's nothing really threatening about him, but it's surprising enough that Bruce takes a step back. "What about me?"

Oh, he thinks, _please_ tell me this isn’t my roommate.

But he already knows it must be, even as the thought first crosses his mind, because how else would this guy have gotten in here?

"I was supposed to be in a single!" That's another roar. So far it seems to be the only thing this guy does, just like Clint is always curt. "Not only that, I was supposed to be in another dorm altogether! In McCormick!"

Yeah, Bruce can't help but think. You do seem like that type. McCormick is one of the most expensive dorms on campus.

But he doesn't say that out loud. Instead he slips his hands into his pockets, looks calmly at the new guy and says, "I don't know what you're yelling at me for. I don't do room assignments here. And you’re not making the best first impression, so I think I want you here about as much as you want to be here.”

The new guy gapes at him like he's completely unused to being spoken to that way. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"No," Bruce says frankly, even though it's not exactly true. He still has the niggling sense that he's seen this guy before. But it seems better to not give him that satisfaction anyway. "And I don't really care."

There's this disgruntled look sweeping over the other guy's face now. He doesn't say anything else to Bruce, just whips an exceedingly fancy cell phone out of his pocket, slides it against his ear after barely appearing to touch it, and taps his foot impatiently while waiting for whoever he's calling to pick up.

"Hey," he says conversationally to whoever is on the other end, "I need a room change. I'm not in the right room. Or the right building. I don't know what the hell happened."

Then there's a silence and he hangs up and informs the room (or Bruce, he really isn't sure), "They have a policy that we can't move at all for two weeks. We're stuck here."

"You're stuck here," Bruce corrects. It's not like he's the one who doesn't want to be here. But he does have to resign himself to dealing with this guy for two weeks. "So we might as well introduce ourselves."

The other guy surveys him critically for a moment, then sticks out a hand and says, "Tony Stark. Shooting for a double major in physics and electrical engineering."

Now it's Bruce's turn to gape. Or at least his mouth falls open. That's why he looks familiar. The Stark family is in the news at least once a month. And of course a Stark would expect to be in the most expensive housing available.

Stark is looking at him like he's insane, so he snaps his mouth shut and offers his own hand to shake. "Bruce," he says, "Banner. Uh—nuclear physics." That earns a low whistle that sounds almost impressed.

Then Stark turns away and bends over to snatch something off the floor. Bruce can't tell what it is, but it's probably something of his.

"Home, sweet home," he hears Stark mutter.

He can't help but crack a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a lot of time looking into MIT information for this. I don't know if they do have the policy about not moving for two weeks, but some universities do, and for the sake of this fic, MIT is one of them. Random Hall is an actual thing though, and the individual floors are things, and part of me regrets not applying to that school.
> 
> Also, canonically Tony did go to MIT. Starting when he was 15. For this fic, he is normal college freshman age. And I have no idea where Bruce went in canon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to outline more of this. I'm not wholly sure what it's doing right now.
> 
> I'm also not positive I'm happy with it, but oh well. Can't win 'em all.

Living with Tony Stark is—interesting. There are other adjectives he could use. A lot of them that aren't very nice at all, but he's still trying to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Especially since they're only supposed to be stuck together for another week.

In the first week of classes, it seems like Stark's only been going to them half the time. At least he always leaves the dorm after Bruce, and is there whenever Bruce comes back. He tends to leave his things everywhere. Bruce isn't really a firm believer in "your side of the room vs my side of the room" but if he finds another of Stark's laptops on his desk, he's confiscating it and taping a line down the middle of the room. (And really, why does one guy need like seven laptops anyway?)

Bruce doesn't even want to get started on the girls. There have been three of them so far, none for more than one night. He keeps coming back from dinner and just finding them there. If it happens again he’s having a talk with Stark about it.

So it’s interesting.

Class, on the other hand, he loves. At least the science ones. He's taking this composition class because it's required for all freshmen, and that's not interesting, but physics and the introduction to nuclear theory courses are great.

The professors aren't terrible. There's one who tends to rush through everything. There's one who seems to go off on tangents all the time, which would be frustrating, but those tangents are always related to more advanced science that Bruce understands even if his classmates don't. And there's one he hasn't met yet, because she had some kind of family emergency and emailed the class that they'd be starting a week late. Today, that is.

But that's later. For right now he's sitting in the student union, listening to the din of the other students around him. One complains about having a five page paper due already. One says the class she's got next is a complete waste of time because she can't understand a word the TA ever says. Another gloats that he got a perfect score on the pre-test and is drowned out by his friends.

"Hey," a familiar voice says. Bruce glances up from his burger (which is better than he'd expect from campus food) and finds Natasha standing over him, accompanied by Steve. She drops into the seat across from his and says, "How's your first week been?"

Bruce considers this question for a moment. He settles on, "Interesting."

"Interesting," she echoes.

Steve, now sliding his way into the other seat, says, "She's about to analyze your answer. It's what she always does."

Natasha elbows him good-naturedly. "Quiet." Bruce wonders for a second if she's absolutely positive she isn't dating Steve. Or maybe Clint. Or both? There are people who are into that, right? "So what is it? You're the studying type, so it's not class. Roommate troubles? Who do you have?"

He stares at her. Her major isn't supposed to make people psychic, is it? "Uh—Tony Stark."

The answer he expects is excitement about the fact that he's rooming with the best known scion in the world.

The answer he gets is a knowing look accompanied by an equally knowing, "Ah." Then, "So he's not the neatest and he's brought back—three, I think? Shelly Pearson, Monica Gelman and Carrie T—"

"Do you know everything that happens on campus?" Bruce interrupts. He's pretty sure Stark doesn't remember their names that well.

"Yes," she says, not hesitating even slightly. He's half-tempted to ask how, but then again, he's not sure he wants to know, and besides, he needs to get to class, which means leaving now if he wants to be on time.

So he stands up and says, "I need to go. We could have lunch another time?" It takes him a second to realize that might be misconstrued as asking her out, so he quickly adds, "Steve, you too. And Clint, if he wants to come."

"Sure," Natasha says. "I'll text you."

"How do you—never mind." You don't want to know, he tells himself.

The walk to class is peaceful, accompanied only by the sounds of other students chatting and occasionally bicycling or skateboarding by.

Then there is class, and Bruce loses himself in taking notes, trying to absorb the information and scribble it into a notebook at the same time. According to the syllabus they'll have weekly exams. They'll also have plenty of opportunity for lab work. So the class is both a curse and a blessing. Great. Better than just a curse, right?

After, when he's leaving, the first thing he sees in the hallway is Stark, striding toward the classroom with all the confidence in the world and then some. The other boy stops though, when he sees everyone streaming out of the classroom. His eyes land on Bruce and he says, "Did I miss it?"

"Yeah," Bruce says. He wonders how someone could manage to be that late, but he doesn't mention that part. "It just let out."

"Shit." Stark sticks a hand in his hair and lets out a deep breath. "I thought it started later. Can I make a copy of your syllabus?"

Bruce isn't sure he wants to do much of anything for Stark. Then he reminds himself that he only has to deal with him for another week and then he'll switch over to McCormick and hopefully someone better will join Bruce in Random.

So he lets Stark make a copy of his syllabus and carries on like normal. That night there's another girl in their room. He sticks a pair of earbuds in and pays attention to everything except Stark and the latest.

###

Come Wednesday, Bruce really isn't expecting Stark to show up for class. He kind of assumes he'll end up loaning the guy his notes so he can copy those, too. (He wound up doing exactly that with Monday's notes once it occurred to Stark to ask what the actual material was that he missed.)

The frustrating thing—okay, one of the frustrating things, since Bruce is confident he could make a list of at least a hundred things about living with Stark that fall into that category—is how Stark is so damn smart. He'd probably be top of the class if he actually bothered going. So he's not just here because his father bought his way in. The wasted intelligence is so disappointing.

Then the shocking happens. About fifteen minutes into class, once Bruce has satisfied himself that he was right, Stark slips into the empty seat beside his, flashes him a grin, and then pulls out one of his laptops to take notes. Bruce kind of squints at him and then goes back to his own notebook.

It's easy enough to ignore Stark. The class is interesting, and the professor is talking about some upcoming lab chances, which he makes sure to write down. He definitely wants a chance to use the facilities here as soon as he possibly can. His bedroom wasn't exactly filled with the most advanced equipment ever—he's used to cobbling things together from paperclips and computers that have been mostly 70% dead and 100% irrelevant for a decade already.

Halfway through class, Tony's phone goes off. The ringtone is loud, some song Bruce has never heard before, and the professor's eyes shoot their direction. Her eyes narrow slightly, and whether it's irritation or recognition, Bruce isn't sure.

"Mr. Stark, your family's power doesn't extend into my classroom. Turn it off or get it out of my classroom."

Both. That would be both. Bruce tries not to laugh as Stark excuses himself with all the dignity he can muster, which looks like more than most people could pull off after something like that.

It isn't until the class is already over that Bruce realizes Tony hasn't come back. It's been forty-five minutes. What kind of phone call did he have to take?

He shrugs and moves to the front of the room. The professor—Dr. Harris, that is—smiles at him and says, "Banner, right? Bruce? What can I help you with?"

Bruce nods and clears his throat before saying, "Do you know when you'll be taking volunteers for the lab work?"

"Officially in two weeks," she tells him. She stops to look at his classmates, who are all taking their things and going. Then she glances his way again. "If you're this eager, you can come help me tonight. I wanted to run a few experiments and the graduate students have all abandoned me."

For a moment his mind goes blank. He completely forgets how to agree to something. Then he nods vigorously and says, "Definitely. Yes. Thank you." He's already turning back to his seat to get his things when it occurs to him to ask what time.

After everything is set up—they swap phone numbers in case of emergency and agree on a time—Bruce grabs his own things and glances at Stark's. Maybe he's just out in the hall. He can take it to him. So he closes Stark's laptop, shoves it into the scion's bag, and carries it out with him.

No Stark.

Bruce sighs, mentally reminds himself that he's too nice, and heads back to the dorm. He can't just leave it here. It'll get stolen. And he lives with the guy, even if that guy is kind of an ass.

Stark can wait for his things though. Bruce has been planning to go to the library all day, and he isn’t changing that plan just because he has someone else’s things with him. He spends two hours in the library, stops for dinner on the way back to the dorm, and then heads back.

The smell of alcohol is all he's aware of as soon as he opens the door to his room. He frowns, closes the door behind him, and takes in the scene. Stark is on the floor, sitting against a wall, with several bottles—empty bottles—of some sort of shitty looking beer around him. There are a few full bottles as well, and a lot of his things have been scattered across the floor, like they were shoved off of their places without any consideration at all. His phone is sitting on his legs.

He looks up when Bruce comes in. Bruce wrinkles his nose. "You left class early to get drunk? Really, Stark?"

The next thing he knows, Stark's cell phone is flying at his face. He just barely manages to bring a hand up to catch it.

"What the hell was that for?" he demands, trying to decide if he should fling the phone right back its owner (who is clearly too drunk to be able to catch it like its intended victim did) or drop it and step on it. Stark's got enough money to replace it in about two seconds, sure, but it'd feel good after the last week.

Tony waves at the phone and Bruce stares at him for a minute before glancing at the screen. It's opened to a web page, some news article published like thirty minutes ago. It announces that Howard Stark has been rushed to the hospital for a heart attack and they don't know if he'll come out all right.

Bruce blinks. Oh. _Oh._

"Oh," he says. Out loud this time. It sounds completely stupid. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize—"

"They said," Stark says suddenly, "that I have to stay here. That's what they called to tell me. That he'll be fine and the papers are going to exaggerate and I need to stay here and focus on school."

Bruce doesn't retort that Stark hasn't done that at all so far. It's not the time. Instead he sets down his own bag, and Stark's, and moves over to the other boy. He glances at the time on Stark's phone. He's supposed to meet Dr. Harris in thirty minutes. If he leaves right now, he'll get there with ten minutes to spare.

But he can't leave Stark like this, can he? The guy might be an ass, but— _way_ too nice, he thinks again.

He takes out his own phone, dials the professor, and says, "I can't make it after all. There's been an emergency with my roommate. Can we reschedule for tomorrow?"

Once he's finished with that, he jams his phone back into his pocket, and heaves Stark off the floor. "You can't stay here," he tells him. "You need to go to bed."

Stark doesn't fight, but he also isn't very helpful. He's heavier than he looks, so it takes Bruce a minute to get him up. Once they're off the floor though, it's easier to get him to walk over to his bed. That's where Bruce leaves him.

He walks away and Stark says, "Where are you going?"

"To clean up after you," Bruce says simply.

It's not his job by any means, but the room can't stay a mess like this, and alcohol is against the campus policies, so he needs to get rid of everything. He gathers the bottles, both empty and full, into a plastic bag, then leaves that aside while he picks up some of Stark's things. He doesn't know where they should go, so he just leaves them on the other desk.

He pulls the bedroom door open and hears Stark say, "You coming back?"

"In a minute," Bruce says. There's something so childish about the way Stark said that that makes him look back at him. The billionaire is just staring up at the ceiling. Bruce shakes his head and leaves to throw the bottles out.

When he comes back, it's only been a few minutes, but Tony is already asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so productive today.
> 
> This chapter is shorter, but honestly I have issues writing longer chapters for this fic. I run out of steam. And I figure a good short chapter is better than a half-assed longer one.

When he wakes up in the morning, Bruce finds that Stark is already gone. His bed is rumpled, but that's nothing new. It's just weird for it to be uninhabited. Stark never wakes up before he does. He wonders, for a minute, if the guy is doing all right. 

Then he figures he must have gotten up to have a head start on drinking. At least this time he'll have gone off campus for it. That's all Bruce can really ask. The last thing he wants is to get in trouble for his roommate's alcohol issues.

He shrugs, decides it's not his problem and he did his best last night anyway, then gets ready for his own day.

Classes are something of a breeze. It's a nice warm day out, and the professors all admit that they want to be cooped up in classrooms about as much as most of their students do. They give brief lectures and let them all go.

Bruce makes a valiant attempt at spending part of his day in the library like normal, to study. It doesn't work out very well. It's far too nice out for him to be inside. So he goes outside and walks along one of the paths available until his legs get tired and he decides he may as well go back to the dorm.

He's halfway there when he runs into Natasha. This time though, there's no almost-crash. It takes him another second to notice Clint standing beside her.

"Hey," she says. "Take care of your roommate troubles yet? Stark drink himself into a stupor over his father last night?"

Bruce squints at her. "You really do know everything."

"That one wasn't hard," she points out. "It was all over the newspapers. You don't have to be me to read a headline. Even Clint figured it out." She pats the math student's arm fondly. "Heck, Steve managed it too, and asked me about it. Like I would know how your night went."

"Wouldn't you?"

Natasha laughs. "Fair point."

"You're right about the drinking," he tells her. "I got him into bed though, and made him get to sleep instead of drinking everything he had with him. So that was something of a success."

They chat for another few minutes, mostly about classes now, and he goes back on his way toward the dorm. He expects to find the room empty.

Instead, Stark is standing in front of his desk, organizing everything that Bruce set back up haphazardly the night before. For a minute he stands in the doorway and just watches him. This is a whole new experience. Stark is focused on what he's doing, like it's the most important thing he's got going on.

Bruce clears his throat and steps in. That's when he notices the cardboard boxes over by Stark's feet. Is he finally moving? A few days early, isn't it?

Not that Bruce is going to complain about that now.

Stark glances his way. Then gets right back to what he was doing.

"You doing okay?" Bruce asks. It doesn't matter. It's not important to him if the scion is feeling better or worse or anything different at all. "You're not going to get drunk again tonight?"

The other boy snorts, like that's some sort of ridiculous question. Bruce doesn't bother to point out that it's perfectly valid. "No. I'm fine."

"Okay." Bruce decides to take the answer at face value. It might not be true, but if Stark is lying, there's nothing he can do about it. Nothing he can do that won't take more effort than he likes, anyway.

He moves to his own desk and slings his bag off of his shoulder to set down. There isn't homework for him to do for today's classes, but there's a little bit from the day before. He's just flipping open a textbook when he hears, "Thanks."

"What?" he turns to look at Stark, thinking maybe he's on the phone now. But his hands are down on his desk, and he's not looking at Bruce, but he says again, "I said thanks. For last night. I needed that."

"Oh." It doesn't sound any better than it did last night. But again, he has no idea what else to say. "It was no trouble."

"I heard you calling Harris to cancel," Stark says. "Don't make me say it again."

Bruce really doesn't know how to answer that. So he settles for, "You're welcome."

A few minutes go by without Stark saying anything else, and then, "I talked to the res life people today."

"Yeah?" Bruce sets his book down completely and turns his entire chair so he can face Stark. The billionaire still isn't looking at him. "Is that why you have those boxes?"

"I'm moving over to McCormick tomorrow afternoon," Stark tells him. There's a pregnant pause. Bruce isn't sure what he should expect to hear next. Stark shuffles something around on his desk, tosses something else into one of the boxes. "You can come too, if you want."

Bruce's mouth falls open. Just barely. More like his lips part. He has no idea how to react to that. They don't even like each other, as far as Bruce can tell. Stark doesn't seem to have much interest in him, anyway. Why the hell would Stark want him to follow him to the other dorm?

It doesn't matter, really. It's not an option.

"I don't have that kind of money," he says. "That's why I'm living in Random to begin with."

"I sort of figured that," Stark says, in this awkward tone that suggests he's trying to not be offensive, even though what he just said could easily be taken that way. Like he's saying, yeah I knew you were poor without you telling me. Nice. "But that's not a problem. I can cover you. My family isn't exactly--well, no one'll miss another couple thousand dollars."

"Must be nice," Bruce says, before he can stop himself. He hopes he didn't sound too bitter. It's not that he's minded having less money than a lot of people. He's made it okay, and he's still at MIT.

Stark laughs. "It can be. But sometimes it sucks for other reasons."

He stops, and finally turns around to face Bruce. "Do you want to move to McCormick with me or not?"

Bruce wants to say yes. Sort of. It's not so much that he wants to follow Stark, as he wants to see what it's like to live like a rich guy for once. So he says, "Why are you offering?"

Stark gets this look on his face that says he's not into saying whatever he's about to. He jams his hands in his pockets and says, "In case there's a repeat of last night. Might be best to have someone who's willing to deal with me." He stops and adds, "Besides, my parents never taught me how to say thank you with anything less than ten grand, so, you know."

All Bruce can do is laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have no idea how long this is going to be in the end. I should probably devote time to figuring that out at some point.

McCormick Hall is even better than Bruce ever imagined it to be. (Not that he let himself imagine much before Stark's offer to take him along when he moved.) They have twice as much floor space now, and enough storage that Bruce isn't actually sure he has enough things to fill all of it. The beds are in opposite corners of the room with a set of desks in between.

Basically, he's more than five feet away from Stark now, and that's fantastic. It'd be fantastic no matter who it was with, of course. Nothing personal against Stark. Especially after this.

"Thank you," Bruce says, for what has to be the millionth time, while he's in the midst of putting his clothes in the closet.

"You need to stop saying that." Stark rolls his eyes from his place, flopped over on his own bed. It turns out he's not much for accepting thanks. "It's not even a dent in the family account."

Bruce shakes his head. Right. How could he possibly forget? "That's got nothing to do with it."

"Whatever," Stark says. He leans up on his elbows. "Let's go down and grab dinner."

After one look around the room to establish that he's got everything put away, except for a few knick knacks, Bruce nods. "All right."

Why not?

The dining hall in McCormick is pretty nice too. It's not all that big, but that doesn't make a difference. Not that many people live in the dorm.

Dinner with Stark is...not exactly awkward, but not as easy as it is with Natasha and her two not-boyfriends. They eat more or less in silence, right up until Stark asks what he was going to be doing with Dr. Harris.

Then it's on. Stark is damned smart. Bruce knows he shouldn't be surprised that the scion knows what he's talking about, having already known the guy was genius-level in like every test out there, but he's still caught off guard when Stark manages to keep up with him and maybe even jump ahead a little bit. It just isn't what he's expected. This conversation. Being here.

Any of this.

Except then Stark's phone goes off, right when Bruce is about to launch into the description of an experiment involving gamma radiation he'd like to run if he can get permission. The other boy whips it out of his pocket and declares, "All right, looks like we've gotta cut this short. I'm gonna go hit Play."

"Play?" Bruce echoes.

"The club," Stark says, straightening up. He drags a hand through his hair. "It's early, but hey, when they summon me I gotta go."

Bruce blinks. "Okay."

It's fine. It's not like he thought this conversation or the move meant they were going to be best friends or anything.

He pushes out his own chair and says, "I'll see you later then." If you get home while I'm still awake. Or if you wake me up getting in.

Stark shakes his head. "Oh, no." He points at the center of Bruce's chest, attracting more attention than Bruce really wants. "You need a life. You're coming with me."

"What? No. No, I'm not," Bruce says. Except then Stark gets really close and more people are looking and he somehow finds himself saying, "Okay! I'll go!"

###

Bruce regrets agreeing to come along as soon as they're standing outside of Play. The line is long, but it doesn't surprise him to find that Stark just jumps right to the front, nods to the bouncer and jerks a thumb at Bruce, mouthing that they're together.

Inside the building it's loud as hell. Bruce isn't sure what's pounding through the speakers actually counts as music. It's just bass and noise. But people are dancing to it. Sort of. Is grinding dancing?

Jeezus, he already has a headache. They've been in here a grand total of two seconds. If that. He starts to reach for Stark, since he's pretty sure that'll be the only way to get his attention with all the sound, but some girl comes up and Stark's arm is around her waist within seconds. The scion flashes a grin back at Bruce and then he's gone, somewhere in the sea of sweaty people.

Bruce gives serious consideration to just leaving. It's not like he wants to be here. And Stark is officially off doing his own things, so he's not going to notice, is he?

He glances at the door and then shakes his head. May as well get a water while he's here, if he can figure out where the bar is. He slides his way through people somehow (and it really is sliding, with how much the entire crowd is sweating) until he catches sight of a bar planted right in the middle of the floor.

There's a grand total of one empty stool, of the spinning variety, and he latches onto it before anyone else can. It's slightly better than being out there. The music is a little bit quieter, probably so the bartender, an immense blond man whose nametag proclaims him Thor, can hear.

"Water," Bruce tells him. The entire answer is a nod and a glass, followed by a hand gesturing for payment. He hands over his debit card and has it back faster than seems realistically possible.

Okay. He can last here for a little bit. Maybe Stark'll come find him.

Probably not though, he thinks. Odds are he'll stumble into the dorm drunk later. That didn't take long.

Bruce isn't sure exactly how long he sits there, thinking of all the studying he could be doing, or how he could be working ahead. Then there's somebody in front of him. It looks like they appeared from nowhere.

She's just sort of there. She looks around his age, maybe a little older or younger (hard to tell with all the flashing lights) and less than steady on her feet. Stark would probably tell him to get her home immediately.

"Hey," she says, and her voice is slurred. "You're cute. Wanna dance?"

He really, really doesn't. "No," he tells her. "I'm just gonna sit."

Her fingers close around his wrist, telling him straight off that she has no inkling of personal space. She tugs, dragging him off the stool and away from his water. "C'mon."

That's how Bruce Banner finds himself on a club's dance floor for the first time in his life. He isn't doing any dancing though. The girl is sort of swaying in front of him, and keeps saying things like "This is great!" and "You've really got the moves!" and someone definitely needs to get her home. He's not even _moving_.

Still, he keeps standing there, letting her rock back and forth in front of him. At least she's enjoying herself. And with any luck a friend will come drag her away soon.

A few feet away, some people part to reveal Stark. He's with the same girl who fetched him as soon as he was inside. They're dancing. Sort of. Grinding, really. Stark's eyes are closed sometimes, but when they open they're locked on the girl. Looks like he's having the time of his life.

Bruce can't look away. He wants to, but his eyes refuse to go anywhere else.

He wishes he was the girl.

No, he absolutely does _not_ wish that. He barely even likes Stark. And he's not gay. No way.

As soon as he rips his eyes away, Bruce excuses himself and goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it be known that I took some liberties here. The big one being that in real life McCormick is a dorm just for girls. But I finally got the virtual tours on the MIT sit to load and McCormick looked way nicer than Maseeh for the same cost and I was like…well, it’s my fanfiction. So be it.
> 
> Also I really wish I could write Bruce and Tony’s science talks, but uh…I’m the kind of person who got really friggin’ confused when trying to help this kid understand cones and rods in eyes during a tutoring session earlier. He got it about as much as I did. It did not go well. I’m a writing tutor, dammit, not a science tutor.
> 
> Oh, and the club was just made up because I was not motivated enough to go find an actual club near MIT.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm going to tell you up front that this chapter is really, really bad, because I didn't think it through very much before writing it. 
> 
> BUT. 
> 
> When I was in class after I wrote it, started having some really unexpected thoughts, and I finally know a good chunk of where this is going and I AM SO EXCITED FOR NEXT WEEK OKAY.

Bruce is finally settling into something of a routine. They've been living in McCormick for three weeks, and Stark is finally going to class. He studies, too. Sure, he's still gone a lot, but Bruce thinks this counts as progress. Stark can be gone all night for all he cares, as long as the scion doesn't interrupt his own work.

He's been working with Dr. Harris for a while now. They meet up in the labs a few times a week, sometimes with other students and sometimes just the two of them. Usually, when he gets in on Fridays, Stark's half of the room is empty.

So he's more than a little bit surprised when he lets himself in, closes the door, and finds Stark actually sitting at his desk, a pen between his teeth.

"Hey," Stark says without looking up.

"Hey," Bruce echoes, his own voice far more uncertain. Stark has probably never heard of being uncertain. "This is new."

"What's new?" Stark spins in his chair, setting his pen down on his notebook. Or one of them, anyway. There are three spread out in front of him, along with two textbooks, and an odd arrangement of checkers pieces.

"Well you're here," Bruce says, "and you're also here without a girl."

"I'm not always with a girl," the other boy says. He wipes his hands off on his pants, though there's nothing on them as far as Bruce can tell. "Better than you at least. Unless you're sleeping with Dr. Harris."

The way he says it, it sounds like he thinks it's an actual possibility. Which it definitely isn't. No way.

"Are you?" Stark asks. "She's kinda hot for an older girl. I guess some people are into that."

"No." Bruce shakes his head. "I'm definitely not--doing that."

He moves to his desk and pulls out his own notebooks. There's a bit of chemistry that needs doing. He reaches out to pull the blinds open, and by the time he looks toward Stark again, the other boy is focused on his work. Bruce wonders what he's working on. If it's just for class or if it's something really interesting. For a moment--only a few seconds, really--he thinks Tony Stark looks good when he's concentrating on something that isn't getting a girl into bed for a night.

He shakes his head and pulls his own attention back to his homework.

Working, he loses track of the time. It's the buzzing of his phone in his pocket that yanks his attention away from chemistry. He gropes for it and answers without checking who it is, "Bruce Banner."

"Hello, Mr. Banner," someone says. He knows that voice, but it takes him a minute to place it. "I'm calling to let you know there's been a change with your father."

"Dr. Chase," he says. The man in charge of his father's place in the psych ward. It's been the same guy the entirety of his time there. He knows he must sound tired when he says, "What happened now?"

"I'm afraid he attacked his roommate last night--that man is fine now--and then attempted to take his own life." Bruce thinks, absently, that it wouldn't be so bad if he'd succeeded. "We thought he was doing well enough to live with someone else, but he's back in solitary now. We have him sedated, and--"

"Dr. Chase," Bruce interrupts, "I really don't care what's going on. Just keep my aunt updated."

That cuts the phone call short, just the way he knew it would. He's not sure why Dr. Chase keeps trying to tell him anything. He hasn't cared what happens with his father in years. He slips his phone back into his pocket and finds Stark looking at him.

"What was that about?" Stark asks. "You look like someone just pissed in your--"

"It was nothing," Bruce says hastily, because he's pretty sure he doesn't want to know where Stark was going with that.

"It didn't sound like nothing," the other boy says.

Bruce hesitates and then shrugs. What's it matter, really? "My father's doctor. He's in a psych ward. Tried to kill himself again, apparently."

"What's he in there for?" Stark looks infinitely more interested in this than his work. "Hearing voices or something?"

"Wish it was that easy," Bruce says. "He killed my mother. A long time ago. Never was the best father, but I'd say that put it at a new level."

Stark stares at him for a minute, and when he opens his mouth again Bruce just knows he's going to get some stupid 'sorry' from him, because that's what he gets from everyone. "So about Dr. Harris."

His mouth falls open and then he laughs. "Seriously? I just told you about my father and your first place to go from there is--really?"

"Made you laugh, didn't it?" The scion grins at him. "That was sort of the plan."

Stark's phone goes off and he glances down at it, swipes it off the desk and shoots an answer back to whoever it is who just messaged him. Probably a girl. It's always a girl. "You going somewhere?"

Pushing his chair back a little, Stark shakes his head. "She wishes, but nah. I'm not really in the mood to go anywhere right now."

Bruce squints at him. "Since when do you turn down girls?"

“It does happen,” Stark says. “Occasionally. I’ve got work to get done.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “All right.”

He’s turning to get back to what he was doing before Chase’s call, when Stark says, “So you aren’t with Harris. Got anyone else? Or anyone you’re looking at?”

You, you—

“No,” he says casually. “Nobody. I’m busy with school is all.”

Stark gives him a long look.

They both get back to work until Stark declares it’s time to go get dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the abrupt ending. My beta protests that the chapter is not shit, but it is not my best. I argue that it is shit.
> 
> All I can say for next week is prepare to be confused.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so that thing where I said I was really excited about the things that were going to happen next? Those things did not happen after all. For reasons that you will find in the note at the end.

Bruce has decided he really hates midterms. All he's done for the last two weeks is study. It's not like he minds having his nose to the grindstone to a certain extent, but there's a limit, and when the studying cuts in on all of the time that he'd usually spend sleeping, it's not so great. 

Right now though, he's almost at the end of his very last test, and that makes him feel a little bit better. There are only three questions to go. Every single one of them looks easy.

He swallows, reaches for his scrap paper to work out one of the equations he's been using since he was sixteen, and repeats it three times.

Done, he thinks.

He stretches his arms up over his head, represses a groan, and then stands up. It's Harris's class. She looks at him from the front of the room and smiles. Bruce nods, makes his way there with his test, and passes it over to her.

"Have a good weekend," she says, soft enough that it won't disturb any of the other test takers unless they have the hearing of a bat. "I'll see you Monday?"

"Absolutely." Bruce readjusts his bag. They've been working on some pretty interesting stuff. He's pretty sure she likes him better than any of the other lab assistants; probably because he's the one who offered to help out before she ever brought it up in class. "We're meeting in the lab at seven, right?"

"Yes," Dr. Harris says.

There's a moment of weird silence, during which he can't help but remember Stark insistently asking if he was sleeping with her (and he's absolutely not) and then he decides to go ahead and leave the room.

Just outside the room, sitting on a bench against the wall, he finds Stark. The other boy looks up from whatever's on his phone (he can only assume Stark is propositioning some girl already) and grins. "Hey, wondered how long you were going to be in there."

"We can't all be geniuses like you," he says dryly. He only half means it. Stark has spent damn near as much time studying as he has in the last two weeks. They had at least one of the same tests coming up, after all. "And I know you only finished ten minutes ago."

"I took a twenty minute nap halfway through," Stark quips.

Bruce rolls his eyes. "Of course you did. Why are you waiting for me out here, anyway? I'd have thought you would have gone off to flirt or do whatever it is you do when I'm not looking."

"I waited so I could let you know we have plans for tonight." The scion hits his feet and starts off toward the door. Bruce follows, because he doesn't have anything else to do, really.

"Do we?" he asks. The only plans he's had so far today are to go back to the dorm and sleep for two days. "I think I would have remembered making plans."

"No, because I just made them."

That...really doesn't bode well. Bruce can't help if he sounds guarded when he says, "So what exactly are these plans of ours?"

"We're going back to Play," Stark says.

"No," Bruce says, "we're definitely not doing that. I'm not. You can. I'm not a club person, remember?"

"Come on." Stark shoves the door open for him and waits until he's passed through to follow him out onto campus. "I haven't made you go anywhere with me in weeks. And we just had that test and I need a break and you need a break and we should take one."

###

Somehow, in the end, Bruce lets Stark drag him along. For the second time, he regrets being here. It's a bit late to back out now though, seeing as they're already in front of the place. Bruce's head seems to be hurting already, even though they aren't inside.

"Hey," Stark shouts once they're inside, "how about you do me a favor and don't just leave without me this time?"

Bruce blinks. Of all the things he'd expect to stick in Stark's head, that's not one of them. He calls back, "I didn't even think you noticed that."

"I notice everything," Stark tells him. "At least about some things."

Before Bruce can figure out what to say, Stark is gone, off into the crowd. Okay then. Bruce stares after him, shrugs and then goes off toward where he knows now the bar is. Time for another glass of water. Maybe this time he'll hold off until Stark is actually read yto go, and maybe he won't. He hasn't quite decided yet.

It's the same bartender from before. Thor. He furrows his brow a little when he sees Bruce. "You're not one I expected to see back."

"Not here by choice," Bruce admits. It's probably not the sort of thing you should say to the guy who's about to serve you a drink, but Thor just laughs and asks if he wants anything interesting to drink this time.

He turns down the offer, gets his glass of water, and nurses it while watching the crowd.

"Hey," he hears over the music. The voice is familiar and surprised and he turns to find Natasha standing there. "I swear you told me you weren't going to let Stark bring you here again."

"That was the plan," he says, watching her settle onto the empty seat beside his. "I'm not sure how he convinced me."

"He's Tony Stark." Natasha shrugs. "He can convince anyone to do anything, from what I hear."

"And you hear everything." Bruce takes a sip of his water, shaking his head when he's swallowing. Natasha waves Thor over and orders something a lot more complicated than what he's got. Something that definitely has alcohol in it. "You don't strike me as the drinking type."

"Every once in awhile," she says. She drums her fingers on the counter in front of her. "So what's your thing with Stark now? Getting along better?"

"To an extent," Bruce says. "He still has a thing about bringing around different girls all the time."

The statement seems to apply right now, he realizes. Across the room he sees Stark, eyes locked on some blonde's abdomen. She looks completely enthralled. Of course she does. Everyone is enthralled by that guy. Even Bruce, loathe as he is to admit.

"I get the feeling you don't like that," Natasha says. Thor delivers her drink and she takes in a gulp without a problem. Bruce lifts his eyebrows. He's somewhat impressed.

"Who would? I keep spending nights in the library because it's better than listening to them."

"Not what I was saying." Natasha shakes her head. "Something tells me you've got a thing for your rich friend."

"Excuse me?" Bruce chokes on his water. "No, I don't."

"Yeah," she says, "you do. Want me to help you out?"

There's a moment of—well, definitely not silence, with all the music and the people shouting to each other, but neither of them says anything. Bruce is too busy thinking. A thing for Stark? Seriously? That's not even sort of possible, except—he sees an image of Stark with a girl, remembers feeling sick with listening to both of them laugh and groan and—

"Okay," he says. "You might be right. But I don't see what you can do about Stark sleeping around."

"Nothing," Natasha says. She finishes off her drink and hops off of the seat. One of her hands slips around his wrist to pull him after her. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" Bruce asks. She's leading him toward the exit. "I kind of told him I wouldn't leave without him this time. At least I think he thinks I agreed to that."

"We're going somewhere not here," she shouts, "and if he thinks you're supposed to stay, even better. Don't look now, but he's looking over here."

Of course, Bruce's first reaction is the urge to turn around. He doesn't. Instead he keeps following her, until they're back out into the night air, and then she says, "He was looking until we left. I'd say your roommate has an eye on you, too."

"Really?" That's hard to buy.

"Really." Natasha rolls her eyes. "Come on, you can spend the night at my place. I think Clint's over there. The two of you can do some male bonding."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun story: Bruce was going to make out with Loki in this chapter. So I started writing that scene. Except then I was like "wow I ship this and I want Loki to keep Bruce" so it sort of...branched into its own fic. Which, unlike this one, is actually being planned out pretty well because it won't leave me alone. Pretty sure the writing quality is also like a thousand times better. It's called The Science of Asgardians, and you can find that over here, if you're interested: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1167361. Totally made my girlfriend ship it when she read over it for me. The summary is:
> 
> Things Bruce Banner didn't expect to get while earning a PhD: an experiment gone horribly wrong, a boyfriend (blue or otherwise), the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, and a war. Give or take a few items.
> 
> A college AU. Sort of.
> 
> It's so much better than this. I mean I'm totally going to see this through to the end, buuuuut...that one's just like...wow I love working on it okay.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say about this fic at this point.

In the morning, Bruce puts off leaving Natasha's place for as long as he possibly can. It's 11:30 by the time he decides to go home. Clint is still there when he goes, sitting at the kitchen table, looking at what seems to be nothing at all. 

"Thanks," he tells Natasha, just before he leaves. "I doubt it's done anything worth doing, but it was nice to uh, not be there for a little bit."

Natasha nods and waves him on with, "It was no problem. You can come back whenever he's pissing you off. I don't bother locking the door."

"Really?" he asks. "You seem like the type who'd make sure your place is sealed up tight."

The girl smiles at him, tight-lipped, and in the background Clint makes a sound that's almost like a laugh. "I don't need to lock it. Nobody is breaking in here, you know?"

Bruce contemplates what that might mean and decides he probably doesn't want to know. He's out of the apartment a minute after that, and on his way back to his own dorm. It isn't a long walk; Natasha lives just off of campus.

The second he walks into the dorm he smells perfume that he can only assume doesn't belong to Stark, unless the scion developed some really interesting habits last night. There's no girl in the room though, so Stark must have gotten rid of her early. Stark's not actually there either, so Bruce heads over to his bed, drops down, and thinks he should probably go get a shower.

He's still thinking exactly that when the door opens and Stark comes in, toweling at his hair. His eyes land on Bruce and he says, "You left without me last night."

"And," Bruce says back, "you brought a girl back to the room last night. Pretty sure I remember you promising not to do that."

"Yeah," Stark says, "except that was when you said you would wait for me to leave. And then I saw you leaving with some girl and you never came back."

Bruce freezes. Despite Natasha saying it, he didn't exactly believe that Stark was actually watching him go. Except apparently it was true. Stark's just confirmed it.

"So," the other boy continues, "where did you end up going? I thought I'd at least come back and find you on your own, piss you off by having someone with me. You weren't here."

"I went back to Natasha's place," Bruce says. He could explain more than that, tell his roommate that Natasha is just a friend, but somehow he thinks that would defeat the purpose of going back with her.

Stark stares at him for a long minute. He starts getting antsy, his hands fidgeting next to him. Finally he can't stop himself from blurting out, "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you went home with someone," Stark says, something in his voice that Bruce can't read.

"And you brought someone home with you," Bruce points out again. He forces himself off the bed, snags his towel from where it's hanging, along with his shower gear, and leaves the room without waiting for Stark to say anything else.

The entire time he's in the shower, his heart pounds. There's no reason for Stark to care where he was last night, unless Natasha was right. So there's something there. Except Stark still brought a girl back last night, so whatever it is, it can't mean that much to the scion.

Bruce would lean against the wall, but he has no idea what's touched it before now. That's the down side of having shared showers. He sighs and finishes washing up. It'd be nice if he could just put Stark out of his mind. That'd probably be easier if he hadn't moved buildings with him. If he'd just stayed in Random and ended up with a new roommate.

He gets back to the room and finds Stark sitting cross-legged on his own bed, a laptop in front of him. The other boy looks up when he comes in. "Hey."

"Hey," Bruce says back, warily. "Doing anything interesting?"

"Not really. Checking out the tabloids about my family." Stark squints at the computer screen. "Apparently I'm going to be checking into rehab soon and my mother is having an affair with my college roommate, which is what led to my recent downward spiral."

"Oh, yeah." Bruce nods. He stuffs his towel back onto its hook before heading over to his desk. There's nothing for him to do there, but he doesn't feel like sitting on his bed just now. "That was actually your mother I went home with last night. Sorry I didn't tell you before."

"No problem," Stark says. "Gave me an excuse to go to rehab. You know how easy it is to get better drugs in there?"

"No, but if I'm doing you such a big favor, I guess I might as well keep up my illicit relationship with your mom." Stark laughs. The conversation is so easy that Bruce half forgets who he's talking to, mostly forgets how awkward things were just before he left the room.

Then Stark says, "So--the girl you went home with last night. Is that a sort of--you know, ongoing thing? You gonna see her again?"

Bruce falters. "Yeah, maybe."

Natasha would love this, he thinks. She'd get a kick out of seeing this happen.

Stark flicks his eyes back to his laptop. "You like her then?"

"You seem really interested in my love life," Bruce says. "Something you're trying to get at, Tony?"

It's silent then, save the sound of their breathing. Bruce doesn't know what he's expecting from the next few minutes. For Stark to tell him he likes him? For himself to tell Stark the same thing? Neither thing seems likely, but he can feel either one coming.

"Nothing," Stark says. "I was just curious."

"Right," Bruce says.

He's not disappointed at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reaaaaaally dislike this thing. Writing it is like pulling teeth. I'm either going to rush it to its ending or abandon it. I haven't quite decided yet. All I want to do is bury myself in my Bruce/Loki fic. It's more fun and it's higher quality and I just love it so much more than this.


	8. Chapter 8

Bruce spends his Saturday in the labs. Technically they're on break, now that midterms are up, but Dr. Harris called him and asked, and it wasn't as if he had anything better to do. So yeah, he's been in the labs basically the entire day.

It's going on ten at night when his phone goes off. Usually he keeps the ringer off, but right now it's as loud as it'll go, to make sure it gets his attention when he's absorbed in his work.

He jumps. Dr. Harris looks at him from across the equipment. "You might want to answer that."

"Right," Bruce says, wrapping his fingers around the back of his neck. He grabs his phone and leaves the room with it. The screen tells him it's Stark calling. Great. Maybe he should just let it go to voicemail.

But no, he's not going to do that. He swipes at the screen. "Hello?"

"Bruce!" Stark sounds happy. Very happy. And he's slurring Bruce's name, stretching it out like it's a four syllable word. "I need you."

Bruce frowns. "Are you drunk?"

"Prob'ly," Stark says. Bruce pays attention to whatever is going on in his background. A party, by the sound of it. There are people shouting, but nobody sounds angry. They all sound as cheerful as Stark does.

"What do you need me for?" He sounds just a little bit impatient. There are things he could be doing. It's late, but there's still plenty of time for readings and measurements and whatever else Dr. Harris wants to accomplish. "I'm busy, Stark."

"Busy with something more important than me?" There's a pause and Stark shouts out some girl's name. Bruce's fingers tighten on his phone. He's going to hang up if Stark doesn't get to the point. He really is. "No, but--I need you to come get me."

"You can't get your conquest of the night to walk you back?" The last thing Bruce wants to go deal with is a drunk Stark. He'll probably have to hold him up, and if Stark is like this--no, it just doesn't seem like a good idea.

"No," Stark says, surprisingly firmly. "I need you."

Bruce holds the phone away from his ear, pinches the bridge of his nose, and groans. This wasn't how he planned to spend the rest of his night. He steps back into the lab and says, "Dr. Harris? Do you mind if I take off for the night?"

She waves toward him without even looking up. "Yeah, go ahead. You've been here all day. I should've let you leave hours ago."

"Right, thanks," Bruce says. He dips back out of the room and brings the phone back to find Stark saying his name repeatedly. "Oh for the love of God, Stark, shut up."

The other boy falls silent, leaving Bruce with just the noise of everything else. Party sounds. Great. Then there's, "Are you gonna come get me?"

"Yeah," Bruce says, heading down the hall toward the break room. His things have been there all day, except for when they took a break and he went elsewhere for lunch. He hefts his bag over his shoulder. "Where is this party of yours?"

"Uhhh." Stark takes a minute and Bruce hears him shout out to ask where this party is, then the scion comes back with, "Phi Kappa Theta."

Bruce wrinkles his nose. "The frat house?"

"Ye--" Stark pauses like he's not sure. "Yes. That one. Right."

Oh, I am so going to regret this, Bruce thinks. He can only handle so much of a drunk Stark at once, and it's bad enough when his roommate's only been out to a club, let alone at a frat party where there's probably a lot more alcohol for him. He hangs up.

It's cold outside. The walk to the Phi Kappa house is brisk, and takes about fifteen minutes. It'll take twenty or so to get back to the dorm from there. He can hear the party, incredibly loud, from a block away. They're probably going to get the cops called on them.

He gets to the door and finds it wide open. There are people everywhere. He doesn't want to go in. He leans in just a little bit and calls out, "Tony! Stark!"

It looks like no one at all hears him. He winces as he steps a few feet more into the house. The music is giving him a headache within seconds. Somehow he manages to avoid crashing into people as he makes his way through the crowds. Stark is nowhere to be seen on the first floor, so he forces his way up the stairs to the second. Lots of doors to what he guesses are bedrooms, and he can bet he knows what's happening in all of them.

Bruce swallows and keeps searching. He just wants to go home now.

"Stark!" he shouts again.

Then someone gets a hand around his arm and drags him into one of the bedrooms. The door closes behind him. All the lights are off, so he can't see a damn thing, including who has their hands on him. Whoever it is gets him up against the door, one hand still around his forearm and the other on his shoulder, fingers tight.

"Hey--" he starts.

Except then there's a mouth on his, a tongue that tastes strongly of beer invading--oh, that's disgusting. He gets his free hand up and shoves against the other guy's chest, then gropes around for a light switch.

"Stark," he says, disbelieving. The other boy is squinting against the light. "What the hell was that for?"

Stark looks like he doesn't have an answer for that. Bruce steps away from the door and turns to open it. "Let’s go.”

"No, hang o--" Stark gets a hand around the back of his shirt. "Wanted to kiss you. Bruce. I want--"

"You're drunk," Bruce snaps. "You don't know what you're talking about. Let's just go home, dammit."

Maybe he wants to kiss Stark. He isn't going to deny that. But he absolutely doesn't want it to happen just because the scion is drunk off his ass and doesn't know what he's doing. He's not that sort of desperate and he doesn't ever plan to be.

"I know exactly what I'm talking about," Stark says, but he slurs half the words, so it isn't exactly convincing.

Bruce shakes his head, gets Stark's hand off of him, and then drags the other boy out of the room. "Let's go home."

"And make out, right?" He sounds disgustingly hopeful. It wouldn't be so bad if he were sober. Hell, if he was sober, Bruce'd probably be kissing him back already.

He doesn't bother to answer the question.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go. Bless.


	9. Chapter 9

Bruce doesn't know what he should expect when he wakes up in the morning. He keeps his eyes squeezed tightly closed for awhile after he's drifted into consciousness, trying to convince himself that if he just ignores the giant problem that is Tony Stark, it might go away all on its own.

Obviously it doesn't work that way, and he knows that. He finally forces himself to roll over and look at Stark's bed.

It is just Stark's bed. The scion isn't inhabiting it. Bruce frowns. That's sort of good, right? It gives him a temporary reprieve before he'll have to deal with him. And depending on where the other boy has gone, he might be able to just slip away after he's showered, and he won't have to see him at all today.

If Stark calls him from another frat party tonight, he's telling him no.

Coerced into motion by that train of thought, Bruce launches himself out of bed and goes for his towel and shower shoes and caddy. There's no sign of Stark in the hallways either, though there are other students around. He ignores all of them, which isn't hard, as none of them really acknowledge he's there at all.

It's early in the day; nobody is ready to acknowledge anybody else yet. Coffee and a few hours of daylight ought to do it, Bruce knows.

He makes it into the showers, which are already inhabited by a few other guys, but there are empty stalls left. He stakes a claim on one and sinks into the glory of hot water.

Stark, he thinks, as he's washing up. That's all. It's hard to have any specific thoughts about his roommate at the moment. Just, Stark.

He doesn't realize how long he's been standing under the water until he looks at one of his hands and realizes he's gone all pruny. Wonderful. He shuts off the water, finishes everything up, and makes his way back to the room.

Please, he shoots to whatever god happens to be listening, because he's not really in the mood to be picky at the moment, don't let him be in here right now.

Either there weren't any gods listening at all, or the one whose attention he caught is an asshole. He opens the door to find the blinds open, sunlight streaming into the room, Stark sitting on his own bed, and a plateful of eggs, bacon and toast on Bruce's desk. He blinks. That's...not really what he'd expected to come across.

Stark, sunlight and food.

He makes it a point to not say anything to the other boy while he moves to hang up his towel. Even when he's settling onto the edge of his bed, he doesn't speak. It's not up to him to say anything first today. Not after last night. Not after Stark's drunken attempts at kissing.

Bruce's lips pull into a thin line at the thought.

"Hey," Stark says, suddenly, into the thick air of the dorm room, and Bruce doesn't really think about looking up, he just does it.

Stark's eyes are locked on him. It makes him nervous in a way it wouldn't have before last night. He wishes he could just erase all of that. Christ. He's pulled from his thoughts by Stark going on with, "I know this doesn't make up for last night. At all. But I'm sorry about all of that. Shit."

The scion drags a hand across his face and Bruce flicks his eyes toward the plate of food. "Your peace offering is breakfast?"

"It's not a peace offering," Stark says, hand still covering his mouth. Bruce half-wonders if Stark is trying to draw attention away from that particular part of his body; if he is, it isn't really working. "It's all I could come up with to say sorry. Figured you wouldn't go for a bag of money."

"So you went with eggs," Bruce clarifies.

"And bacon." Stark points with the hand that isn't already busy.

Bruce sighs. Stark is right when he says this doesn't make up for anything, and that Bruce wouldn't just go for money. He's not one of those people who sells their silence. He does get up and go for the breakfast though.

He spears some of the eggs onto the fork and stuffs them in his mouth, mulling things over. Stark looks completely lost, over on his side of the room. Bruce feels guilty, just for a second, about thinking that's a good thing, but then--Stark got himself into this. It's his fault this morning is awkward at all.

One piece of bacon later, Bruce gets sick of the quiet and asks a question that he only half wants the answer to. "Why did you do that?"

"The breakfast?" Stark asks, hope all over his voice again. Like Bruce is going to let him get off that easily.

"No. Last night."

The silence comes back long enough for Bruce to eat a bacon slice. Stark's eyes are darting everywhere except for him, but they do settle in time for him to say, "Because I wasn't brave enough to do it sober. Kind of backfired."

Wait a second.

Wait just a damn second.

"Excuse me?" Bruce's fork is frozen, halfway to more eggs. He can't believe he heard Stark right just then. Or maybe he misunderstood, somehow.

"You've seen the worst of me," Stark says quickly. "I mean that day you found me drunk and all, and you've seen how I am and--you weren't going to want to kiss me. No reason for you to, so--"

This doesn't sound like the Tony Stark Bruce has gotten used to over the last chunk of the semester. He's having trouble believing what he's hearing.

"You mean," he says, interrupting whatever Stark is trying to say now, "you did it because you actually wanted to?"

Stark makes a face like Bruce is an idiot, and that's more like what Bruce is used to. There he is, he thinks. "Yeah. I said that, didn't I?"

Quiet seems to be a near-constant in their dorm this morning. Bruce lets it linger on for a moment, lets Stark stew in--whatever he's stewing in over there. A whole ten feet away. Maybe. Bruce hasn't measured.

"You're right," he says, "I know what you're like. I'm not going to be a one-night stand, Stark."

"No!" Stark says, with a surprising amount of force. "You're not. I wouldn't--not you."

"Okay," Bruce says. His fingers are tight around his fork. "Okay."

"Okay?" Stark echoes.

Bruce swallows. He manages to pry his hand away from the fork, to set his plate aside, and it takes more effort than it really should for him to cross the room, but he does it. Stark is right there, at the edge of his bed. Bruce isn't exactly sure what he's doing--he just sort of reaches out, stretches his fingers out over Stark's cheek, and leans in to kiss him.

It's a thousand times better than the one last night within seconds. It starts off slow, with Stark kissing him back easily. Exploratory, almost cautious.

Then Stark gets a hand around the back of his neck and drags him in and everything is suddenly very hungry, Bruce included.

"Stark," he says, when they separate. "I meant it, about not being a--"

Stark shuts him up by yanking him onto the bed. "It's Tony. Want to go to dinner?"

"Tony," Bruce says, careful. "You just brought me breakfast."

Stark shrugs. "We can put dinner off for about ten hours."

Bruce laughs. He's still not all the way sure about this, but, well. "Delayed dinner it is then."

Tony grins up at him, and then they're kissing again.

There's probably some work he had planned to get done today, Bruce knows. It can wait awhile. It's not going anywhere.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONE.
> 
> Which means now I can focus 100% on The Science of Asgardians, which is absolutely delightful news.


End file.
